Page 10

9

VEIL

I ’ve lost track of how long I’ve been handcuffed to a bed in Gemini Foley’s house.

It must have been hours by now. And yet here I sit. I fight the exhaustion and struggle to keep my droopy eyelids open and alert. My wrist is raw from the vain efforts to try to break out of the handcuffs, and the now-sensitive skin smarts at just the thought of trying again.

There’s not much to look at to pass the time either. The bed is under large windows in the corner of the bedroom, and a redwood armoire sits on the opposite wall of the bed.

Although my vision has grown used to the dark, the furniture, cloaked in shadow, plays tricks on my mind. Everywhere I look, I feel threatened, as if even inanimate objects were willing actors to my ultimate demise.

I stare at an empty wall instead.

The door bursts open, and the sudden flick of the lights has my heart jumping into my throat from the shock. I squint, my hand attempting to shelter my eyes.

“Apologies for my tardiness, pet. I came back as soon as I could,” Gemini says with a flurry of theatrical movements, his tone light and jovial.

I say nothing as I scamper back up the bed, pulling my knees up to my chest, my heart pounding wildly against my rib cage.

He’s changed out of his gold suit and into a red mesh tank top, tucked into tight black jeans. His bared skin reveals a sporadic collection of tattoos, including playing cards and a carousel horse on his chest. My gaze snags on a tattoo of two snakes that appear to be coiling around his collarbone, near where a set of silver chains adorn his neck.

With a small furrow to his brow, he pins me with his stare, his eyes shimmering as they inspect me. A thin line of black eyeliner is smudged under his lower lashes.

He points a finger at me, making it twirl in tight circles. “You need to shower,” he states, wrinkling his nose at me. “I can smell the appalling stench of fish on your clothes.”

Pulling the key out of the front pocket of his jeans, he walks up to the bed and unlocks the cuff from my wrist.

“What time is it?” is all I can muster to ask.

Gemini hums, as if everything I say somehow delights him. “Time is but an illusion, love.”

While I’m still sitting on the bed, he lifts my wrist and inspects it, seeming displeased by the swollen red skin. He slowly drags his thumb over it, and a confusing shiver dances down my spine.

Letting out a small tsk, he mutters, “Unacceptable.” His piercing eyes lift to meet mine. “No doll of mine will defile their skin in this manner — understood?”

A warring of emotions pulses through me—horrified dread by being referred to as his doll, but also irritation that he would blame this on me.

“I’m not the one who handcuffed me to the bed.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can swallow them back down. I shrink, fearing his reaction.

But all he does is chuckle. It’s warm, amused even, and it leaves me deeply unnerved.

“Then I suggest you stop struggling like a caught butterfly and accept your fate, pet.”

“Well? What are you waiting for, love?” Gemini leans casually against the wide bathroom sink, arms crossed as he lazily inspects his nail polish.

After he uncuffed me, he led me to his bedroom and into his vast en suite.

I couldn’t help but note that his room was right next door to the one he’d locked me in.

Even with the terror muddling my thoughts, I’m taken by the charm of his bathroom, especially the two claw-foot bathtubs sitting under large stained-glass windows. The floor is an intricate mosaic of colorful tiles while the shower takes up most of the wall opposite to where Gemini now stands.

He hasn’t glanced my way since he last spoke, but I can tell he’s waiting for an answer.

“Privacy,” I finally say with as much assertiveness as I can muster.

“This is private,” he responds, his attention elsewhere.

“You’re still here.”

His roguish eyes finally slide to mine. “I don’t count.” Pushing himself off the sink, he strides toward me. “Now take this off,” he orders, pinching my sweatshirt with two dainty fingers, “before I rip it off myself with my teeth.”

I swallow hard, holding his piercing gaze. I should scream, protest, run even, but my intuition tells me I wouldn’t make it far.

He claims he doesn’t intend to kill me, but why would I trust a word he says?

I decide on compliance for now. I’ll bide my time until I find a better way to escape. Still, I can’t help but jut my chin out in defiance before muttering an angry, “Fine.”

With a huff, I take my clothes off, my movements rushed and aggrieved.

Until I’m naked.

Painfully vulnerable in front of my captor.

Gemini gives my naked body a quick, cursory glance. But seems more interested in kicking my pile of clothes into a corner of the bathroom with the tip of his boot, as if he can’t wait to distance himself from them. The shame of standing naked in front of Gemini morphs into an even more complex version of the emotion as he handles my clothes with such disgust. As if I’d ever had any real choice in the matter.

I feel as insignificant as grime under his overpriced shoe.

My bitterness tastes like ash on my tongue, and I don’t wait for another command before stepping into the shower. Now, only a pristinely clean windowpane stands between us.

The faster I do this, the faster it’s over.

Giving him my back, I turn on the hot water. Even while I’m racked with nerves, the impressive showerhead leaves me breathless as I step under the soothing rainfall. I stifle my positive reaction. I would never want to admit to a single ounce of pleasure while that monster is watching me.

While I’m lathering my body with luxurious soaps, with even more luxurious names, I hear Gemini behind me. “Make sure to use the exfoliator.”

I peek over my shoulder and realize that he’s barely paying attention to me. Too busy doing a handstand in the middle of the bathroom, necklaces dangling in his face while he balances on one hand, then the next.

I can’t control the small ripple of relief that washes over me at the lack of attention.

When I’m all washed up—and exfoliated—it takes me longer than it should to turn off the water, having fallen into a feeble sense of safety behind the confines of the foggy glass.

I don’t know what awaits me after this.

Regretfully, I turn off the shower and slowly turn to face him, not bothering to cover my naked body with my arms and hands. I might feel weak and powerless, but I refuse to let it show.

Gemini has resumed an upright position and holds up a fluffy, large towel toward me. I step onto the plush bathroom rug and reach for it, but he pulls away with a taunting smirk and gives me a few tuts while slowly shaking his head.

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, but again, I say nothing, except for a small, defeated sigh escaping my lips. I break out into full-body goose bumps when Gemini wraps the warm towel around my body and begins to dry me off. But even when his hands come far too close to the middle of my legs, his touch doesn’t convey anything sexual.

I’m left relieved yet confused—unsure of what to make of his intentions.

“There,” he says softly after carefully patting down my hair and tucking the towel around my chest, his fingers delicate against my skin.

His expression is far too innocent for the monster I know lies inside. He might appear as a debonair aristocrat, but I will never forget who he is and what true evil hides behind the jester persona.

Coaxing me to stand in front of the mirror, he reaches for a hairbrush.

“I can do that myself,” I state, knowing full well that my protest will have no sway whatsoever.

“Now why would I let you do that?” he says, his toothy grin lighting up his eyes as he watches me in the mirror. “Be a well-behaved doll and stay still.”

Unease crawls all over my skin again from him referring to me as his doll, but I remind myself to stay docile—for now.

I press my lips together and say nothing more as he gently brushes my hair, careful stroke after careful stroke.

Having nowhere else to look, I study him through the glass. I linger on the small silver loops around his earlobes, then on the short strand of blond hair falling over his forehead. A thin scar cuts through his left eyebrow; it’s more prominent now that his brow is furrowed as he meticulously works on a knot in my hair.

“What kind of rube doesn’t use conditioner?” he mutters under his breath.

He then falls back in silent concentration.

After successfully detangling my hair, he plaits it with deft fingers into one long braid before stepping back with a pleased sigh and inspecting me.

“Wait here,” he says before disappearing into his bedroom and returning after a few short moments. He hands me a pair of cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt. “You can wear this to bed.” Then winks. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you to your new wardrobe.”

Something about his wink makes my nape prickle, but I take the clothes without balking. I pause, hoping that he’ll turn around while I get dressed.

He does nothing of the sort.

How silly of me.

I drop the towel, and this time, his gaze lingers.

“I can’t wait to feed you,” he says distractedly, falling silent again while he continues to observe me.

My heart squeezes with apprehension, but I ignore him while I step into the shorts first, then quickly pull the shirt over my head. The bright scent of blood orange and cloves lingering in the fabric overwhelms my senses. I recognize Gemini’s scent from the multiple times he’s pinned me to him, and I grow weary, realizing I won’t be able to escape him, even while I sleep.

Considering I’ve had the same nightmare of the maze chase for weeks now, I never did escape him in the first place.

Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the guest room. Cold sweat prickles my forehead when I realize he’ll most likely handcuff me to the bed again. Instead, he pulls down the duvet and pats the mattress for me to climb in. I eye him with suspicion, but do as he instructed, apprehensively sliding under the covers, my gaze locked on his.

His charming expression is but a derisive facade, and anxiety roils in my stomach as he pulls the covers up to my chin.

Bending over so that his lips are close to my ear, he whispers, “If you try to escape, you’ll never make it off the property.” He presses a chaste kiss on my forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

My eyes sting with unshed tears as he strolls to the door and turns off the lights, plunging me back into darkness. I hear the lock turn, and I fight against the claustrophobia clawing behind my chest. Rolling to my side, I bring my knees up to my chest, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

Why did I ever come to Pravitia?